


waking up with the house on fire

by 40linestare



Category: IT (2017), IT (2019), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: !!!, Culture Club (Band) References, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Fluff and Angst, IT DOESNT EXIST BITCH!!, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, Requited Love, The only demonic presence here is period typical homophobia, a Smidgeon of christmas reddie, i just have to speak that into being, it is the 90s my friends, like if you blink you'll miss it - Freeform, my sweet sad 90s baby, richie has sleep apnea which is not important or even mentioned, theyre like 16/17 in parts 2 and 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 05:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/40linestare/pseuds/40linestare
Summary: the one where eddie loves culture club (and maybe richie). richie's oblivious (not to the culture club part).





	waking up with the house on fire

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this two years ago but it's maybe the best thing i'll ever write so here we are
> 
> and.... the playlist link!! (VERY IMPORTANTE, please listen to while reading!!) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5mKh9Yd3TbZml7KAi2VzfJ

**i.** eddie kaspbrak is eight years old when he has the grand luck of falling onto boy george. his mom's out running errands and he's flipping through the channels on the living room television set. the grass had been cut earlier that day-- _your allergies_ some voice screamed in his brain the moment he considered walking out his front door. he's slumped down in front of this old television, hoping for literally anything except soap operas or the news. (no luck.)

eddie's going so fast through the channels he nearly misses it. his hand's on the dial, ready to move, when he realizes he's not going to. there's a guy--no, not a _guy_, that's _makeup_ on his face--singing, some hint of mischief in his eyes. his earrings flash and his bright red curls shake and suddenly eddie's face is the same color. this guy--_person_\--seems to know something eddie doesn't. people dart down a runway in army uniforms, lifting up their coats and grabbing their own asses (eddie doesn't know a lot about the army, but he's sure this must be some kind of blasphemy). _war, war is stupid, and people are stupid, and love means nothing in some strange quarters_ the guy beats on and on. it cuts to simulated war videos and eddie can breathe, he can breathe and _what the hell was that_

later, sonia kaspbrak returns and eddie is all too glad to hop down the stairs and tell her that nothing happened today, no, he just flicked through channels until he got bored. he's talking fast and he doesn't know why _youknowwhy_ and he finds his inhaler in his mouth not a minute later. "what's gotten you all riled up, eddiekins? are you sure you don't need to lay down?" eddie wants nothing more than to lay down and forget that shit but he shakes his head and says, "no, mommy, i'm fine. think i just got lightheaded. i haven't eaten in hours."

**ii. _do you really want to hurt me  
do you really want to make me cry_**

eddie's holding his walkman to his chest like a lifeline. his body crumples into a ball as his jacket soaks the bed. his bike was still at richie's; eddie vaguely wonders what richie would say about that, but most of him can't give a shit. he'd run all the way home after he realized having a mental breakdown in richie's bathroom probably couldn't be easily explained. _it's easy enough_ a voice taunts him. _you're in love with your best friend. always have been a little off, haven't you, eddie?_

eddie could feel tears run down his burning cheeks. he would have laughed at this last week, when he'd had similar thoughts. thoughts of loving his best friend in a non-best friend way. "i'm in love with richie," he spoke to no one. then he had laughed. he had laughed, because no way in hell was he in love with _richie_. he was annoying with his god awful accents and his too-personal dirty jokes and his making fun of eddie for nearly anything. no, that's not what love was. love was wanting to kiss someone every minute of the day, and feeling lonely without them there and... and eddie didn't know shit about love, really. but this wasn't it. this couldn't be it. 

richie had been lounging at the foot of his bed, eddie at his right hand. richie's radio hummed out a familiar tune that he tapped his feet to. _i'll tumble for ya, i'll tumble for you_

truth be told, eddie could've sang the entire song by heart. and maybe it wasn't that he didn't want to, but richie had looked really at peace, kind of nice for a change. his eyes were closed as he mouthed the words. there was no use in ruining this. 

they'd been sat there for a while in near silence before richie jolted eddie out of his daydreams.  
"you know amanda clayton?"  
eddie snorted. everyone knew amanda clayton. "what about her?"  
"i asked her out. for friday." richie looked over at eddie expectantly. _like he needed eddie's approval_

"oh," eddie started.  
"oh," richie agreed.  
"that's... cool. did-did she say yes?"  
richie snorted. "no, i just told you so you could make fun of my terrible game. which, actually, all jokes aside, is pretty damn amazing."  
eddie swallowed. "guess so, if you got her."

a smile was shot in eddie's direction. his stomach knotted. his mouth felt like sandpaper. "i-" he stood up. richie followed. "i actually have to piss. unless you wanna come with me."  
"my deah fella, i think i'd right ratha you deal with this on ya own!" richie's (_fucking awful_) accent came out.  
eddie scowled and quickly turned out into the hallway. _holyfuckholyfuckHOLYFUCK_ eddie glanced at the bathroom door and decided that wasn't happening. nope, nope, nope. this was bullshit. he half sprinted down the stairs until he reached the front door. _bullshit_ he grabbed his coat and ran. _BULLSHIT_  
some absent thought floated in the back of his brain about how he was gonna have to explain this to richie, but fuck that.

his skin is rubbed raw. eddie tries to ignore the way his own body refuses to house him.  
and yeah, eddie had always thought something was wrong with him. his mom had been pouring him that kool aid since before he knew how to swallow.  
eddie knew that was bullshit, he wasn't sick, he never was. still, he felt like tar had roped its way over his insides. like something was _wrong_ and the only way to fix it was a puff on his inhaler or a chalky blue pill sliding down his throat. 

_wrong_ like there's been a virus in his brain, like it's always been there but it's really taken root now and eddie's _sick_ he'll always be _sick_ and _your mother was right maybe if you would just take your goddamned pills this would go away_

he's on his knees retching up whatever shit he had since this morning. that twisted part of his mind says _good, eddie, that's good! you're ridding yourself of the virus!_  
"_fuck. off._" eddie says through gritted teeth. he slides back and carelessly lets his head bang against the bathroom wall. maybe brain damage would put his poison mind to rest. maybe his mother's teachings could just fall away if he got a brain bleed. 

**iii. _love is love is nothing without you_**

"i got something to give you, eds!"  
eddie raises his eyebrows at his friend. "let me guess, syphilis?" he deadpans.  
"nah, your mom's clean. so am i."  
"that's the biggest lie of the century. so what is it?"

richie pulls a crudely wrapped present out of his bookbag. its sparkly bow had been half smashed during its journey to eddie. he thinks he's never seen anything so beautiful.  
"merry christmas, shortstack!"  
eddie can't find the energy to pretend to be upset. he smirks and tears into his gift. he can feel his heart soar as he sees boy george staring back at him. "you got me a CD?"  
richie scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i just thought-- d'ya like-" eddie envelops him in a hug before he can finish. 

"i love it," eddie breathes. he closes his eyes and holds onto this boy whose hands burn holes in his skin like he was paper to richie's lighter. loving richie tozier is a death sentence, but if his execution is this warm, he supposes it's alright to bathe in the flames for a while. 

"you're my best friend. you're my best friend, and the-that, that's..." eddie swears under his breath. he stares at his paling reflection in the mirror. he looks like a kid again-- eyes big and questioning and scared. something about it gives way to 1984 when he'd seen boy george on tv. eddie had, over the past eight years, found solace in him.  
he'd find it whenever and wherever he could. when he and his mom drove to the pharmacy and his voice swooned out of their little car radio (if only for the five seconds before sonia flicked it off), when he flipped through the channels of their staticky tv, when he saw his face on the cover of a magazine. eddie didn't know why he felt this connection to him (_he did_), but that didn't matter. it was enough to know he was living his life and that eddie could feel he was a part of that magical world too, even just for a minute. to just not give a shit about anything. to not be in this stupid fucking town with its unspoken rules and spoken hatred. 

eddie's leg jitters violently as he tries to calm himself down.  
"fuck." his hands push his smoothed hair back as he closes his eyes.  
ever since richie'd gone on that stupid date, he'd been... different. he met with the losers at a diner the next day and said it was total shit, only good part was the fries and shake.  
"is that a euphemism?" eddie questioned.  
richie smirked. "no, but now that you mention it..." eddie rolled his eyes. 

richie was sat impossibly close to eddie in the booth they shared, despite the spaces around them. a few days later the gang had gone to the quarry ("the last nice day of the season," mike had quipped) and richie's hand had kept bumping eddie's as they walked. eddie had chalked it up to nothing, but that didn't mean he hadn't gone home and listened to richie's gifted cd for hours. figuring this probably wasn't healthy, he'd gone to the bathroom to practice talking to richie. he wouldn't want to talk to eddie after he confessed, much less be affectionate with him. eddie thought, in that sadistic part of his mind, _good. you deserve it. he doesn't know what those touches mean to you._  
"listen, this seems... impossible, but i think i'm in love with you. please don't hate me." yeah, this wasn't happening. 

he thinks something's wrong when he walks into richie's house. there's no car in the driveway and the house is overwhelmingly silent. no radio blaring from richie's room, no quiet muttering from the living room.  
"richie?" eddie calls out softly. he shakes his wet boots off near the front door and ventures into the kitchen. no sign. eddie could feel his pulse banging in his neck. he checks the downstairs bathroom and begins to creep up the stairs when he sees richie's door is open. he never leaves it open if he's in there.  
he hops down the stairs and past the front door. he finally peeks into the living room and sees his friend fast asleep on the couch, a stream of drool caressing his cheek. oh. he knew richie'd never really had a great relationship with sleep, but he wasn't expecting this. he's splayed out with his feet over the armrest and his head in between two couch cushions (_how the fuck is that comfortable_). he supposes that mr. tozier's gone out somewhere for richie to have laid in his lair long enough to fall asleep. 

eddie makes his way over and sits next to him. he hesitantly nudges richie's head to the side to see if he'll budge.  
"mmph." eddie pokes his cheek. "whaddafuckyouwan..." richie mutters.  
"you invited me over and fell asleep within the twenty minutes it took to get here. instead of courteously waiting for me at the door, like a _gentleman_, i find you passed out on the couch."  
"mm," richie grunts in reply. he pushes himself up the couch and right into eddie's lap. he turns so that his face is level with eddie's hipbone. eddie prays to his maybe-existent god that he won't explode right then and there.  
despite eddie's certainty that there's a ticking time bomb in his chest, it doesn't go off. richie stirs beneath him a few minutes later as he burrows his head into eddie's sweater. 

"hey, eds?" richie garbles out.  
eddie swallows. "yeah, rich?"  
there's a long pause before he continues and eddie thinks for a second that maybe richie fell asleep again. "are you mad a' me?"  
"n-no." eddie's heart sinks. "why? why are you asking that?"  
"seems... kinda like a dream. maybe i' was. you'ere runnin' from my house. never asked you 'bout it, though." _bet you wouldn't want to hear my answer_  
"that was real," eddie whispers. nothing like the present to tell the truth-- especially when richie was half delirious. great timing, really.  
a crease forms in between his brows. "why'd you run?" he seems to be stirring out of his stupor. 

eddie licks his lips. "i... was upset." _there! there, you've almost spit it out, eddie-boy! just add a quick_ ‘because i'm in love with you’ _and you'll be right on your way out of this chokehold that tozier didn't even know he had you in._  
richie's stupidly big eyes stare up at eddie. "why?" simple question. he seemed genuinely curious about the answer.  
"i'm gay," eddie blurts. "like. gay. really gay. probably known it since i saw boy george for the first time. maybe before that."

the furrow in between richie's brows grows more pronounced. he opens his mouth and eddie waits for it, waits for some dumbass joke or comment, something tasteless that'll make eddie laugh in spite of himself. nothing comes. (_oh my god richie this is the worst time to not be talking please talk please say some stupid joke **PLEASE**_) eddie's throat is closing up. he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "and, okay. i'm also probably kind of in love with you."--_there it is!_\--"you-you were talking about amanda clayton. and i thought, oh. oh my god i'm actually in love with this nerdy piece of shit, i probably have been since second grade. and i-"

"wait up. nerdy piece of shit?" richie cuts him off, feigning offense. his eyes are glittering. he brings his right hand to his heart and lets out an insulted gasp.  
eddie stares at him, bewildered. "th-_that's_ what you're fucking focusing on right now?"  
"how could you see this relationship working out if you continue to call me such rude names?" he's put on his accountant voice. eddie's ready to faint.  
"oh my god," he mutters feebly. "oh my _god_, you fucking _asshole_!" 

"oh, language, mr. kaspbrak!" eddie hits his arm. "ow! what was that for?" richie yelps, and finally sits up.  
"you're being an ass."  
richie pouts. "i thought you loved my ass." eddie gives up. richie pulls a shit eating grin and eddie notices his face has kind of gone the color of strawberry milk. shyly (_oh maybe there is a first time for everything_), richie adds, "but uh, hey. i think i'm probably kinda in love with you too, eds." he reaches over for eddie's hand and smiles (a _real_ smile) at him. eddie swears he's never seen anything so beautiful. 

_love is love is everything you do_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :-) hit me up on tumblr at wwillbyers if you ever want to cry about edward kaspbrak


End file.
